Severed at the waist

I shouldn't have a problem sitting here writing. The blinking cursor should be a sort of rhythm, not a intrusive drumming or beating in the frontal lobe of my brain.

Perhaps it has something to do with being stuck inside for nearly forty-eight hours this weekend, but sitting behind a desk for forty hours this week does not sound pleasurable whatsoever. I should take advantage of this opportunity, of this job, of this situation I've been blessed with and write my fingers off; edit old pieces and create new ones. But in this moment, I feel like a pinworm has buried itself at the base of my spine and I just can't settle. Not that I'm in pain, or feeling physical pings of trouble, but more restlessness than anything.

I remember learning about pinworms, flatworms and tapeworms in Mrs. Weatherford's high school biology class. To this day she remains one of the toughest teachers I ever had, but I probably learned more from her than any other teacher. She gave insanely intense lectures and thorough notes. She would deduct points on tests for misspelled words and not underlining species scientific names and not knowing the Latin name for certain plants. She was hard. She gave oral tests- leaving no one any time to dilly-dally and come up with some nonsense answer. You either knew it, or you didn't.

I wondered then if I'd ever encounter such disturbing parasitic creatures. Only metaphorically I guess- those people and experiences that suck the life out of me. Often I'm able to brace myself for what I know might be a tough conversation or an hour long meeting that leaves me limp and deflated, but sometimes those things come out of nowhere.

And sometimes it's just regular business - too much stuff- that beats me down. Looking at the calendar ahead and how each day has something written on it from now until practically Thanksgiving make me nervous. I know I'm not supposed to look that far ahead. I know I'm not supposed to think about any and everything I have going on in the next 10-20 days, but, really, it's alot.

Recently, I've been faced with the reality that I'm going to have to shave down my schedule some. To prioritize. To figure out what matters most and what matters to me most, right now where I am; what I need to be pouring myself into and what I really, want to be doing. What do I want to do?

People, intentionally or not, can pull you into a million different directions until you shatter- into a million little pieces. And there will always be something: a party, a wedding, a shower, a get-together where someone will be in town that you just have to see. There will be friends moving away, doctors appointments, shopping lists, illnesses, times I forget to mail the rent check or buy more toothpaste.

Today as I walked to work, in the sunshine, I felt frumpy and very thirty-one in my sisters old clothes. Everyone else looked well put together and refreshed. Like they were all anticipating the coming fall and couldn't wait to button their winter white corduroys around their tanned summer waists and put their arms through the sleeves of their deep navy blazers. The jacket with that big, brown tortoise button that pulls the entire outfit together right at the navel. I'm afraid mine won't fit.

Confidence in each step, they glide down the sidewalk- like the only thing on their agenda for the week is somehow squeezing in brunch on Saturday in-between spin class, yoga and a standing pedicure appointment at Diva Nail Salon.

I know this next season of my life, as a minister's wife, is going to be different. Better. New. And I'll be in positions I've never been in before. But, I'm truly believing that if I hold on and seek wise council, that I'll experience great growth. That I'll be able to do things I've never thought possible and see myself, if only for a brief moment, through those God glasses that don't register incompatibilities or impossibilities. I think, that I'll really like what I'm going to be doing- because I've been called and equipped to do it. Regardless of how I see myself, label myself or feel about myself day-to-day. God says I'm able.

I, therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, urge you to walk worthy of the calling you have received, with all humilityand gentleness, with patience, accepting one another in love, diligently keeping the unity of the Spirit with the peace that binds [us]. There is one body and one Spirit,just as you were called to one hope at your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all. Eph. 4:1-6

I know what I see in other people, is not really who they are. They are as insecure as I am, about something, on some level. They have bad days too. I'm just grateful that God uses me in spite of my doubt. When I feel like there's no way I can lead a bunch of thirteen year-old girls who worry about fitting into a certain size, when I still worry about the very same thing on some days myself.

Surviving the Storm

Why does being inside for 48 hours completely drain me? I feel lethargic and completely lazy. Doing nothing makes me want to do nothing.

As you've already heard, we survived Hurricane Irene. Unfortunately, she arrived on Saturday, and ruined a perfectly good weekend. No work was missed, but our church services were canceled Sunday morning.

The roughest part, the part that was felt across the city, was the fact that there was no public transportation running from Saturday at noon until 6:00AM Monday morning. So, even on Saturday morning, when we were sure that this thing was over for the most part, I couldn't go anywhere even if I wanted to. And if I did actually walk, or bike somewhere, nothing was open... because (again) subways and buses were not running. Ritz Diner, the 24 hour restaurant across the street from our apartment never closed. I think it was the only place open for blocks.

Gifted with all this time, I pretty much did a whole lotta nothing, but this is how I did fill the hours:

1. Saturday morning I washed three loads of laundry in our buildings new laundry facility. It uses these fancy cards (instead of quarters) that you can reload at a machine in the laundry room. Evidently, I wasn't the only one with this idea, but it wasn't too crowded. Plus, I had nothing but time.

2. I washed an entire dishwasher full of dishes. (Okay the dishwasher did the washing.) But, I had to to the drying and the putting away. The "dry" function on this brand new dishwasher seems to be, mediocre at best. Nothing is really ever all that dry.

3. I made a tomato/ basil salad with olive oil and vinegar. I made squash and zucchini and onion. I made a cake. I "cooked" a peach which I sprinkled with cinnamon and ate with a dollop of Fage. I made omelets and grill cheese sandwiches and Vienna sausages. (Here's the deal, what's a hurricane without Vienna sausages?)

I was one of the crazies in the supermarket on Friday evening. I didn't buy all that much, just a few cans of soup, canned peaches, a gallon of water (which was nearly impossible to find) nuts, crackers and yes, by request from Chris- Vienna sausages. I opted for sardines and tuna myself.

4. I read some Anne Lamotte- Traveling Mercies, I started Beth Moore's So Long Insecurity, I journaled. I watched several episodes of Scrubs and entertained a house guest for twenty-four hours. (She lives alone and wanted to "hunker down" at our place.) I napped and went out for a couple walks and went to the East River Promenade just to see how high the river was. It was rushing along, moving swiftly toward the Atlantic.

...

I felt supported and loved and prayed for. I got texts and emails and phone calls from Texas from people just checking on us and touching base. I'm thankful that we never lost power, we didn't experience any flooding and nothing was damaged or harmed. The howling winds and tree branches beating on our windows kept me awake until at 2:00AM. And after that I was up most every hour. But we were safe.

Now I can add earthquake and hurricane to my list of natural disasters.

Shake Rattle and Roll

In one weeks time I will have experienced my first earthquake, my first MRI and my first New York City hurricane. Because my nerves really haven't had enough yet!

I was one of the people who felt the jolt that rocked the city on Tuesday. Sitting nineteen stories above the earth and one block West of Grand Central Station we swayed and shook for about thirty seconds or so. That was enough for me. My initial thought was, not unlike many others I've talked to since, that I was loosing my mind. Or for me, having a horrible anxiety attack.

My co-worker had just returned from lunch and was putting her things away in the pantry, so I was alone in the reception area. I answered the phone and put the caller on hold- thinking, something is so wrong here. Then, I stood up, in a effort to find some stability (little did I know...) and grabbed onto the desk. I then noticed the ficus tree swaying and thought, "If I'm the only one experiencing this, something is not right with me."

I pushed open the door that leads to the back offices. I prayed that I wouldn't find sixty people sitting calmly at their cubicles and in their glass-walled offices typing normally, earbuds on, chomping on trail-mix. And I didn't.

People were standing, startled, proclaiming things like, "Did you feel that?" "What was that?" "What just happened?" Turns out, I'm not loosing my mind after all!

Several of us grabbed our belongings and bolted (on the elevator, obviously!) Even then, we all knew, as someone yelled, "women and children first"- that the elevator was not the correct way out of the building if we suspected a bomb or attack to the building itself or an earthquake even. But in my mind I thought: "I'm with Heidi (the other receptionist, who has become a dear friend) and I'm with this guy and that guy and this guy and they have spouses and children and are great people. So, if we all die in this elevator, then, well, we all die. At least I'm with people I like."

On42nd Street people were everywhere on the sidewalks. I realized I didn't have my cell phone, which was the reason I was one of the first ten or so people to go back into the office about fifteen minutes later.

The day resumed as usual. Some people in our offices and on other floors didn't even feel the need to evacuate the building. Me personally, I just wanted to know if it was an explosion three blocks away, or just our building or if it was indeed an earthquake.

For a few hours afterward I still felt nauseous, like I'd just gotten off of a boat, or tried to stand on a waterbed.

All this episode did (and all the upcoming hurricane evokes for me) is how helpless we are in NYC against natural disaster and other attacks as well. We are 2.6 million people living on 23 square miles, that's 71,000 people per square mile. And this does not include the people who commute here from all the other boroughs and New Jersey to work five days a week. SO- we are millions of people on an island built on trash which is pretty much hollow underneath; subway lines and caverns of train rails coming and going all over the North East.

Not the safest of options.

But, I survived shake of the earthquake, which was really nothing compared to the 25 minutes spent rattling inside the tiny tube of the MRI machine. Holy Moly. It's not a pleasant experience: cold, tight, loud, obnoxious, you don't know what to expect. But again, I made it through. (Even though the little tech guy was not satisfied with my answer to the questions: Could you be pregnant? (?? mmm) Are you experiencing a delayed period? (mmm, yes) What was the date of your last period? (March, 2010)

As the large camera helmet was strapped on my head I just prayed, "God please protect my unborn child if I am pregnant..." And please don't let me go into panic mode in this coffin-like box I'm in. I'm safe. I'm not trapped. You're closer than my very breath.... Exhale.

So, now I'm preparing, if only mentally, for a hurricane.